


A Leopard's Spots

by Shoshanna Gold (shoshannagold)



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-13
Updated: 2010-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-06 14:35:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoshannagold/pseuds/Shoshanna%20Gold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A gag gift, you say?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Leopard's Spots

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction based upon characters in the HBO miniseries.
> 
> [**idrilfinial**](http://idrilfinial.livejournal.com/) gave me this prompt: _maybe Brad discovers Nate has an interesting underwear collection, but doesn't necessarily mind_. Let's just say that the gif she posted with the prompt was inspirational - you should [check it out](http://shoshannagold.livejournal.com/317533.html?thread=2434141#t2434141).

Nate knew that look. In the field, it had meant that Brad had found a jalapeno and cheese dip in his MRE. At home, it usually meant that he'd hacked into the DoD or beat some jack-ass in a Lamborghini on the I-5. He wasn't quite sure what it meant in Cambridge, in his living room, with nothing around Brad but Nate's laundry basket.

"Interrogative, sir?" said Brad, before Nate could ask why he looked like the cat that swallowed a very big, tasty canary. "How long did you think you were going to keep certain ... proclivities a secret from me now that we're sharing a domicile, at least for the summer?"

Nate had had a long day, and he wasn't up to interpreting the Secret Language of Brad tonight, as intriguing as that smile might be. "Speak plainly, Marine, or don't speak at all," he said, flopping down on the couch beside Brad.

Brad reached into the laundry basket at his feet, keeping his body between it and Nate so Nate couldn't see what he retrieved until he twirled the leopard-print thong around slowly. "This doesn't look like it would be very comfortable, Nate. But I bet you're as hot as hell in it."

Nate groaned and pulled a pillow over his eyes. "It was a gag gift from some of the guys at school after my interview with _Playboy_ made the cover."

Brad pulled the pillow away from Nate, his smile only getting wider. "Ah, yes. The _Playboy_ interview. I kept several copies of that issue, sir. For the article, of course." He twirled the thong again and Nate reached for it, but Brad held it up high and Nate wasn't willing to tackle him for it. Yet. "A gag gift, you say? And yet it was in the pile of laundry I did this morning, and it appeared to have been worn, recently. "

"I ran out of underwear last week - it was the only thing in the drawer. It was either that or go commando under my suit, and wool itches," said Nate. He didn't sound defensive at all. Really.

Brad's gaze narrowed. "You wore this to a meeting? You sat in a board room with a dozen of your pinko colleagues, and were rocking porn underwear under - what, the grey suit with the pinstripe?"

"No, the navy one. Does it matter what suit I wore it with? And it was in the wash pile because I still haven't had time to do laundry, so I just went out and bought new boxers to get through. So thank you for washing my clothes for me. Now give me the damn thong so I can throw it out."

"Not so fast." Brad moved closer, the thong still in hand, and kissed Nate. "Do you want to show your appreciation for the afternoon I spent folding your skivvies, Nate?"

Oh, he didn't like the look on Brad's face at all. "No. I said thank you; I'll buy you dinner; I'll suck you off. But, no."

"You'll buy me dinner."

"Yes."

"Hmm." Brad looked liked he was considering that offer. "That nice place in the Ritz?"

Oh, he was so fucked. "Yes," said Nate, as ungraciously as possible. "But, no. I mean it, Brad. No."

Brad continued like Nate hadn't even spoken. "Four loads of laundry, Nate." He waited a beat, and Nate nodded, outplayed by the domestic card.

"I knew you'd see things my way." Brad kissed him again, slowly running his tongue over Nate's lower lip."So you'll wear your grey suit, with these underneath."

"Fuck, Brad."

"After dinner, Nate."


End file.
